


Venting

by EsculentEvil



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Asexual Character, Budding Love, Crossdressing, Developing Relationship, Gender Dysphoria, Gender Issues, Genderfluid Character, Hurt/Comfort, Other, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-05
Updated: 2019-01-05
Packaged: 2019-09-14 00:36:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16902756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EsculentEvil/pseuds/EsculentEvil
Summary: A collection of BatJokes/BruJokes works I've written involving an asexual, gender fluid Joker.Originally posted to my Tumblr @esculentevilSome chapters are in script format; other are in prose.





	1. Comfort

**Author's Note:**

> These aren't really put in any order (other than by original posting date).

**Bruce** : [glances up while sipping his morning coffee; almost chokes] Joker?!

 **Joker** : [pauses in his pathway to join his other half in the kitchen] Bats...?

 **Bruce** : [ignoring Joker’s cautious tone] What are you wearing?!

 **Joker** : ... [frowning; warily glaring; very slightly trembling] What’s it look like?

 **Bruce** : [stares; takes in the soft pink, gently flowing garment] ... a dress...

 **Joker** : [takes a fortifying breath] Then why’d you ask what I’m wearing?

 **Bruce** : ... [swallows thickly; sets his coffee mug down] Sorry, I was just... [studies the guarded green eyes of his cautious lover] ... surprised, is all.

[Bruce returns to his coffee and the messages on his phone as Joker calms himself down; once he’s managed this, however, Joker tentatively joins Bruce.]

 **Joker** : ... [sitting quietly by his counterpart] ... You... don’t mind this?

 **Bruce** : [glances up in time to see Joker gesturing at his pink dress; takes a deep breath before sighing it out with a soft smile; sets his coffee down again] Joker, you’re a mass murdering sociopath that robs banks as much as jewelry stores and has not only killed my second son but attempted to kill **me** as well. [laughs] If, after all that, I flipped out and left you for wearing a **dress** in your own **home**? Well: then **I** ’d be the insane one in this relationship. [uses his free hand to take hold of the other man’s and squeeze it gently—comfortingly; lovingly] It’s fine.

 **Joker** : [trembling; tearful; anxious as all fizz] ... it is?

 **Bruce** : [smiling softly; nods] It is.

[ _Because, really,_ Bruce thinks, _it doesn’t change a thing—least of all you_.]


	2. Acing the Leap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kinda sorta reappropriating a personal experience with my Mate regarding my asexuality.

“Alfred, that smells really go—”

Bruce Wayne cuts himself off abruptly as he enters the kitchen. Standing inside the large room with a large spoon is not the man he had been looking for.

Instead, it’s, “Joker?!”

The green-haired clown giggles through grinning teeth, “Welcome home, Ba _t_ sy~ Hehehuhuhe!” The spoon dips into the delicious smelling stew simmering on the stove and begins to stir as the Joker reaches up to turn the contraption off.

Bruce just watches silently.

As he debates whether or not allowing this farce is wise, he also wonders if it would be safer to ask where his family is now or later (it’s entirely too possible for Joker to have them rigged to explode like Jason and it might be wise to just let him do whatever he’s doing until Bruce can remind the lunatic just how much his family means to him [as, being a sociopath, Joker often struggles with such social constructs]). His thoughts, more-or-less decided, halt as his criminal clown giddily fills a sizable bowl with his hot brew and grabs two regular spoons.

The villain hands the piping hot serving over to Bruce before removing his apron.

The hero gapes and almost drops the stew when he sees a bright yellow, feminine blouse tucked into a pair of tight, acid-wash, neon purple shorts.

* * *

 

The Joker guides his partner to the drawing room and sets him on the couch.

As the green-eyed man skips over to the fireplace and sets it alight, Bruce hastily texts his family chat and relaxes minutely when Alfred sends back a picture of himself and most of the BatKids at the penthouse. An actual text comes in a second later from his eldest, Dick, stating that he’s  _fine_  and  _with Harleen_. The breathe that escapes him is loud and immensely relieved.

Joker, finished with the fireplace, obviously notices this; and, for a moment, Bruce wonders if he just royally pissed the murderous clown off.

Thankfully, however, Joker simply smiles indulgently and saunters his way over to the love-seat. He purposely settles himself right beside the larger male and presses himself up against the other’s warm bulk, “Hope you’re hungry, darling~”

Bruce swallows thickly as a pair of silky smooth legs find their way into his lap.

He obediently nods and takes a spoon.

* * *

 

They eat mostly in silence.

The only sounds are that of Joker’s pleased hums and Bruce’s occasional assurance that he loves the stew. And he does, surprisingly: the rich, creamy texture and warm, sweetish flavor fills him up and satisfies something deep within him—something he didn’t know existed and something Alfred keeps missing. He has no name for it but he can name what he feels as he finishes.

Happiness.

As Joker sets the dishes aside on the low table between the couch set, Bruce realizes just how domestic this situation is. All the dates he had previously were outside ones: dates that happen at restaurants and social events; he’s never really been at home eating a meal made by anyone but Alfred.

There’s something...  **special**  about a meal made by a lover and not a butler.

Feeling oddly warm, the unmasked hero welcomes the sudden rush of soft slenderness that is aforementioned lover, wrapping his muscular arms around the other’s sleek frame and pulling him closer. The Joker purrs in the back of his throat and allows Bruce to manipulate him into the larger man’s lap as his own bright red lips seek out his mate’s plump, tanned ones for a kiss.

They moan softly once they’re connected.

Joker tastes like his stew, Bruce’s toothpaste, and cigarettes. There’s something uniquely Joker under there, however—something toxic and bubbly and addictive—and Bruce finds himself forcing his tongue past waxy, scared lips to taste it. He’s victorious, of course, and lays claim to the sharp teeth, slick muscle, and sensitive nerve endings he finds hidden within his other half’s mouth.

The clown whines beautifully in response.

His own clever tongue twists and curls about his Bat’s, battling it like he battles the man: intensely, passionately, wantonly. Their chests find each other, firm and pounding, as their stomachs mesh together until there is only a seam and heat. The Joker’s thighs are splayed and straddling the billionaire's waist as his knees press into the crease between couch back and couch seat. To achieve the ideal position for so much contact, the clown hooks his feet between the bigger man’s knees, directly beneath his neon-purple behind, and loosens his hips.

Bruce groans: both at the feel of their groins brushing and the sight of stilettos.

Joker rarely wears those monstrosities: he claims they hurt his feet and, for the longest while, they were unsafe to wear, anyway, because they usually met on rooftops and in alleyways—both of which are dangerous places for such heels; add to all of that the fact that they were so difficult for the clown to run in and, well, Bruce doesn’t often see them. He really likes them, however, because he thinks they’re sexy and he has confessed this to Joker a few times in the past.

And now the green-haired villain is wearing a deep blue pair of daggers.

Joker squeaks and abruptly pulls out of their kiss. He glares acidly at his mate and grabs the thick wrists at his waist; Bruce blinks back in confusion and concern because his murderous partner is pissed and he didn’t remember moving his hands to cup that beautiful, purple-clad ass. “W-wha—”

“ **Wha** _ **t**_  do you think you are doing~”

The playful tone clashes jarringly with the furious glare. Bruce swallows thickly and tries to come up with a response; all he has, however, is the truth (because lying to the Joker is both dumb and cruel): “I just wanted to feel more of you...”

The Joker pauses.

Confusion blooms on his face as doubt and insecurity settle into his eyes; Bruce has no idea why. They sit like that, for a moment, without talking or moving, as Joker seems to struggle with a reply. Eventually, however, he frowns and asks, “Don’t you normally grab my ass to fuck it?”

Bruce balks.

He opens his mouth to refute this claim before realizing the other is right: the only times he’s previously paid that part of his counterpart’s body any attention has been during or before sex. Frowning, Bruce carefully pulls his hands away from his other and contemplates what to do. He doesn’t come up with much.

Thankfully, Joker throws him a bone: “I don’t mind if that’s what you want.”

Bruce looks up at the green-eyed villain, fully expecting to see a seductive smirk; instead, he finds the other is not even looking at him but at the fireplace to Bruce’s left. There’s a guarded expression on his face accompanied by a pair of resigned eyes. His breathing is purposely slow (in, 1-2-3, out, 1-2-3, in—) and he’s biting nervously at his inner lip. The billionaire’s mouth goes dry.

He immediately takes the slighter man’s face in his hands.

“Is that what  **you** want?”

* * *

 

Mind-blowing.

If he were ever asked to describe this moment in a word, it would be  _mind-blowing_. Because he never thought he would look into those resigned acid vats and see hope begin to shine; he never thought he would see desire illuminate another’s face for his mind’s capability rather than his dick’s; he never thought he would be the source and reason for all the love suddenly flooding the room. It feels good—really good—and, oddly, Bruce wants more of it. A  **world**  of it.

“No.”

The voice had been so small—so scared—he hardly realized he heard it.

* * *

 

“... I like your heels,” Bruce eventually speaks.

They’re sitting in the corner of the love-seat, snug under a blanket, with the fireplace re-lit and their arms around each other. One of Bruce’s hands is on the villain’s thigh while the other is firmly cupping his round rump. This touch had been soft, at first, and almost hesitant—but the realization that all the slimmer man’s references for his Bat’s hand being on his backside were so sexual quickly instilled in the hero the desire to make this touch gentler and sweeter.

Besides, Joker’s right: why should sex be the only reason Bruce touches there?

As the billionaire makes a mental note to look up body worship and how to do it, Joker hums in agreement to his voiced statement. Warm, acid-green eyes peer up at the larger man as the criminal clown tucks himself deeper under the blanket and into his partner’s arms. He allows aforementioned heels to poke out without moving his knees from their spot against his other half’s side; his calves and shins end up a bit cold, though, as they leave the warmth of Bruce’s thighs.

“I knew you would.”

The vigilante smiles before choosing his words carefully, “Because I told you I find stilettos sexy?” ... Okay, so, he still needs to work on his delivery; but, hey, he tried; and at least he’s actually talking about his  _feelings_ , okay? Baby steps!

Joker slowly nods, “Yes...”

Right. Make or break moment: “Okay... so... why... What were you hoping to accomplish? I mean: I know you didn’t want sex but... the heels are sexy...”

Joker frowns; he ducks his head and hides his face before answering quietly: “I... just wanted to make you happy—do something you like—so you’ll hold me.”

Warmth. Bruce re-tucks the slender man’s feet back under the blanket and holds him close like he had wanted. He buries his nose into the other’s thick, green hair and breathes him in—lavender and blood and nicotine with hints of the stew he brewed and the acid that birthed him—as the clown gives a happy keen.

Then, he leaps: “Next time, just tell me; people usually only wear things they know their partner finds sexy if they want to seduce them. If you just want  **this**... Just... tell me—I’ll be more than happy to hold you... any time, Jaeger.”

Joker breathes deep, swelling with something (hopefully happiness), and nods, “Okay.”


	3. Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce comes home to Joker in a full-on girl-mode and isn’t sure what to do. Cue a Milestone.

Bruce’s first thought is  _what_.

At least, he’s pretty sure it is.  _Wow_  had quickly followed with  _he’s so pretty_  right behind.  _Thighs_  had popped up next and  _LEGS_  came after it.  _Knees_ ,  _calves_ ,  _ankles_ , and  _feet_  were all compiled in that train; and then his thoughts derailed.

Joker sort of just stood there, hugging himself.

The silence stretched. 

* * *

“I... uh...”

Bruce trails off, not really sure what to say. He’s staring but he can’t really bring himself to look away. Joker’s hair is done up in soft waves, a style far more feminine than Bruce is used to seeing. His eyes are lined in dark green that gradually becomes black the farther away the flaring eye-shadow gets from aforementioned eyeliner; it makes the lightness of Joker’s eyes pop and brings out the subtle yellows in the other’s acid pools that Bruce so rarely sees.

Joker looks away and Bruce’s eyes shift, finally noticing the other’s lips are pink.

It’s surprising but fitting as everything else about Joker’s look is so unusually soft. The purple that he usually wears is replaced by a lighter one: lilac. The pink tone gently matches the new lipstick and the billionaire finds himself appreciating it; especially since it blends in a bit more with Joker’s overall whiteness.

It makes him look just a little less sickly and pale.

Light yellow sandals adorn the clown’s feet, revealing his gently curling toes. They match the feminine blouse Joker wears with frills and a ribbon down the front. The leveling creates the illusion of something that causes Bruce to flush.

Emerald earrings and dark green polish on fingers and toes complete the look.

And Bruce just wants to touch all of it. 

* * *

He can’t, though.

He tries: in a blur of movement, he’s directly in front of the smaller male; his hands find thin shoulders bared by the sleeveless blouse and his lips find those soft pink ones. His thumbs massage the invisible dimple created by the meeting of shoulder bone and clavicle while his tongue sweeps over a trembling mou...

Wait,  **trembling**?

Bruce pulls back to stare worriedly into wounded eyes. Joker’s looking at him as thought he’s just assaulted the clown and Bruce has no idea why. He rubs the other’s slim shoulders and arms before asking him what’s wrong.

Joker just takes shaky breaths.

Bruce knows that sound; it’s how his mate sounds when he’s trying not to panic, to calm down and actually articulate for Bruce what’s on his mind. The billionaire silently guides the clown over to a chair before taking his slender hand in his.

One-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three.

_The rhythm of a heartbeat simulated by pulsing motions of the hand. Squeeze and release rapidly three times. Pause. Start again. Continue until he’s calmed._

Harley’s words echo in his mind as he holds his villain close with his other hand.

Eventually, the smaller male’s breathing slows and his slender body relaxes against Bruce’s warm bulk. The vigilante continues the rhythm none-the-less and gently (so he doesn’t disturb the curls) buries his nose in the other’s hair.

He breathes deeply, too.

“... I like skirts,” Joker quietly says, his voice frail and strange. Bruce isn’t really sure what to make of it but he nods silently into the villain’s mane. “And dresses. I think they’re... pretty. And I... I just...”

As Joker’s voice wavers and takes on a distressed note, Bruce kisses his temple and squeezes his hand more emphatically ( _I’m right here; it’s ok; I’m listening_.).

His inhale is shaky and scared but he still continues, “I just enjoy wearing them...”

* * *

Bruce... is confused; very confused.

He’s known for a long time that Joker cross-dresses. He’s seen it many times before even back when they  **weren’t**  a thing. Everything from skirts to dresses to nylon stockings to lingerie: Joker in female clothing is nothing new to him.

But this situation... 

( _This is **very**  new_.)

* * *

“Because they make you feel pretty?” Bruce hazards, hoping for the best.

Joker relaxes against him minutely, some of the tension in his shoulders leaving. It isn’t much but it is something so Bruce got at least part of it right.

“I just...”

There’s a glassiness to Joker’s eyes that Bruce really doesn’t like and he looks so unbelievably  **lost**  that the Bat is tempted to just punch his face in so they can return to all their decades of fighting. It would be familiar and feel so much safer.

But it wouldn’t do anyone any good.

“Tell me,” Bruce urges, voice warm against Joker’s cheek. He’s still squeezing out the heartbeat—their heartbeat—into the clown’s hand.

“I just... want to feel pretty...”

Joker trails off as he sees Bruce’s frown; the billionaire would drop it immediately if he could. But he can’t. “You  **are**  pretty.” ( _Why didn’t you kiss back?_ )

Bruce watches Joker flush.

Then Joker shakes his head, “Not...  **that**  kind of pretty.”

* * *

Bruce sighs and shakes his head, “I don’t understand.”

And he really doesn’t. How can there be more than one kind of pretty?

Joker sighs, a little agitated, “I want to  **feel**  pretty; not  **be**  pretty.”

And, like that, it clicks, “You weren’t trying to seduce me?”

* * *

The pillow to the face makes Bruce laugh.

Joker, however, was already laughing. “Pervert!” He swings again and socks the larger man in the jaw, grinning in victory as the vigilante flails under his fluffy assault. His third swing never hits as Bruce finally reaches up and grabs him.

They end up cuddling on the couch.

Bruce attempts to neaten Joker’s hair as he goes over what he just learned again. “So... the cross-dressing... is for you to feel pretty... not for me to think you look pretty?” He raises a brow as he hears the clown snort.

“You can think I’m pretty—you can even say it! Just... It’s not about seduction.”

The billionaire slowly nods. Then he frowns, “Then what  **is**  it about?”

It takes him several minutes, which they spend in silence, for Joker to answer.

Then: “I want to feel pretty and safe with you; I want this to be non-sexual and non-seductive; I want... this to be  **normal** , not a statement or an invitation.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slowly, Bruce nods, “... Okay.”
> 
> He wraps his arms around his mate and pulls the effeminate man closer. A frown mars his face, out of the other’s view, as he sits there and contemplates.
> 
> “I still wanna touch your legs, though.”
> 
> Joker snorts and then laughs into his vigilante’s neck. The corners of his eyes crinkle with mirth and there’s a warmth to his smile that surprises Bruce. Pale pink, glossy lips stain a tanned cheek: “I like when you worship my legs~”
> 
> It’s Bruce’s turn to snort, “I said touch.”
> 
> Joker smirks while adding more pink to his hero’s face, “It’s~” He gently guides a large, heavy hand to his bare thigh before sighing contentedly, “Worship~”
> 
> Bruce just rolls his eyes, amused, and smiles.
> 
> Joker grins.


	4. The Definition of Love

“What is sex, exactly? It’s you and me, together, feeling ecstasy. Does that mean we HAVE to be naked together? Does that mean I HAVE to go into you? NO. It just means we make each other feel that good.”   
— My Mate/Batsy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m posting this, as is, because I’m still not sure how to go about doing this; I want to share an asexual!Joker with you all—and I have in a way—but I find myself unsure how to when I don’t really see it being accompanied [literally, I’ve only really seen this idea addressed—and only addressed, it’s not like it was a fic or anything—by [@batjokesmessages](https://tmblr.co/myDyqUNwjBKbiG1em3p-DrA) [here](https://esculentevil.tumblr.com/post/170555990180/batjokesmessages-since-the-petition-lets-make)]. I’m not sure if it’s because no one else can see it or no one else agrees with it but it’s **really** nerve-racking. My mate [obviously] and friends are all supportive of it/me but… it’s still scary. So, in an attempt to at least start setting it up, I’m trying to provide context? I’m not sure if this’ll work, but my Mate/Batsy said this to me when we were first faced with this particular hurdle and it really helped **us** : it calmed me, made me feel more secure and less afraid, and removed some major anxiety about the whole thing; it also calmed him [since I was no longer so afraid] and he says it made him feel much more confident that he could make me happy. The point is that I really want to do this but I need to place stepping stones first. That was originally some random ~~venting~~ drabbles like [Acing the Leap](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16902756/chapters/39708570), [Tunnel of Love](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16973532), and [Pretty](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16902756/chapters/39893493); but I find myself very dissatisfied with those because, although they were well received and supported, they weren’t really coherent and not really a story… they were VENTS and I want to write them… coming together, not just… [sighs] I wanna write them chronologically, not just fling you all into my love life. I have no idea how this’ll go or work or if it even will—but I’m doing it. I hope you all like it.


End file.
